


The Hollow

by PinkHighlighter



Series: North Pole Drama [2]
Category: Santa Clause (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Folklore will be included...but I will be taking a lot of creative license with it., Friendship, Gen, Halloween/Christmas, Horror Elements, Possible crush between an OC and a canon character (not what you might expect!), Rescue Mission
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-28
Updated: 2016-08-21
Packaged: 2018-07-27 05:42:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7605871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PinkHighlighter/pseuds/PinkHighlighter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nearly three years after Bernard's return and Buddy Claus's birth, a new threat emerges. What are 'Dark Elves', and why are they so angry with Bernard? The kidnapping of little Buddy Claus is just the beginning. Halloween and Christmas collide, unlikely friendships are forged, and the North Pole's distant past lashes out with a vengeance. Oh, and who is 'Alpha? You'll see!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Changeling

**Author's Note:**

> I was going to wait until I had a good-sized chunk of this story completed before posting it, but I've got it all planned out on index cards. Since I know how the story will end, updates will probably be anywhere from every day to every two or three days, depending on how crazy things get here. This story will have more to do with Halloween than Christmas. It will also have some horror elements as well as a sad back-story for one of the characters, so consider yourselves warned. :) I don't own Bernard, or any of the characters from The Santa Clause. I do, however, own Viola and Avery, as well as the creatures who live in The Hollow. You'll learn more about that place later. There is a map on my DeviantArt, if you want to know the layout. I go by contraryheartliger over there. I hope you enjoy it!

"The Hollow"

"Chapter 1: Changeling"

     November at the North Pole was both a hectic time and a dark one. Quite literally, in the latter case, for there was no sunlight at all from early October to early March. The days and nights were marked only by the passage of time and Elfburg's automatic street lamps.

     Normally, Bernard would either have his hands full on the Workshop floor as he kept an eye on toy production and made sure all the Elves were pulling their weight, or he would be holed up in his office, up to his pointed ears in paperwork. Nearly three years ago, this familiar routine underwent a few changes. With the birth of Buddy Claus and Bernard's own return (both absence and return courtesy of Jack Frost), Santa found himself with a new baby and _two_ Elves who were qualified for the position of Head Elf.

     Curtis's solution was to act as Bernard's back-up, if the need ever came, and Bernard found that it came more frequently than he would have expected as he was often called upon to babysit for a few hours.

     Not that Bernard _minded_ spending time with his godson. Buddy Claus was surprisingly mellow and laid-back for such a young child, and Bernard simply adored him. He just wished the boy wasn't so adamant about refusing to go to bed. Tonight, the game of choice was hide-and-seek, and Bernard stood in the center of the nursery with his eyes covered.

     "Seven...eight...nine...ten! Ready or not, here I come! Hm...now, _where's_ Buddy?" Bernard planted his fists on his hips and scanned the room, knowing full well where Buddy was. It was hard to miss the two little feet encased in light blue footie pajamas poking out from underneath the curtains. "I swear, I saw him _just_ a minute ago! Buddy? Where are ya, Sport?"

     Buddy giggled, not quite realizing that sound carried.

     "Ah, what was that? I think I heard something!" Bernard cupped a hand behind his ear and tip-toed closer to the window, lifting the tablecloth on his way over. "Nope, not under here. Boy, I hope I find him soon. I don't want to be in trouble with Santa!"

     Another giggle, and Bernard was hard-pressed to keep back a laugh of his own. "Now, I _know_ I heard something _that_ time! I'm coming to get ya! Ahhhh...Aha!" Bernard quickly yanked open the curtains and picked up the toddler, who squealed with laughter and hugged the Elf tightly around the neck. "Found you!"

     "Again!" crowed Buddy, peering up at Bernard through a mop of dirty-blond hair. It had a slight curl to it, and it was beginning to get in his eyes, but Carol worried that he was still too squirmy for his first haircut.

     "No, not again, five times is enough," Bernard stifled a yawn against his fist.

     Buddy yawned as well, having caught it from Bernard. "Tired?"

     "Nah! But guess what?"

     "What?"

      Bernard whispered in Buddy's ear. "It's your _bedtime._ " Buddy shook his head no, and Bernard nodded yes. "Mm-hmm. It's time to go to sleep, but you can pick out a story for me to read to you, okay?"

     "M'thirsty."

 _Oh, here we go..._ Bernard knew what was coming next, because it happened every time he watched Buddy in the evening. First would come the excuses to hopefully delay going to bed, then the refusal to close his eyes and sleep. "Okay, a _small_ drink. We don't want any accidents."

     "I dun do that no more!" Buddy declared before squirming to get down.

     " _Any_ more." Bernard let him down and followed him out of the nursery. "Hey, don't run, Buddy!"

     He wouldn't realize until later that he had forgotten to close the curtains again.

* * *

     Behind the Workshop, well away from prying eyes, a patch of ground began to warp and bulge. At first, it almost seemed to resemble a group of mole hills placed at regular intervals in a perfect circle. Then, with an audible ' _pop_ ', the first mushroom emerged. Its cap was red, speckled with white, and it was about the diameter of a silver dollar. More mushrooms quickly made themselves known, and before long there were thirteen of them, arranged in the shape of a ring.

     Two hooded figures appeared within the ring, and they shivered and rubbed their arms as they stepped out of it. The male wore a pack, but the female carried nothing.

     "It's been a long time, Viola," whispered the male, lowering his hood to reveal a youthful face, a head of black hair worn in a faux hawk, and large pointed ears. "I'd forgotten how _cold_ it is here."

     His female companion made no reply, nor did she lower her hood. Instead, she dug her hands into the pockets of her winter coat and peered around the side of the building. Seeing that the way was clear, she beckoned and disappeared around the corner.

     " _Viola!_ " The male Elf hissed before huffing angrily and running after her. "You're sure they won't find the Ring before we get back?"

     "I'm sure, brother. Everyone's either working or asleep. No one would have any reason to skulk around behind the Workshop."

     "Except us," he quipped.

     "Avery..." Viola's tone was as icy as the ground beneath their feet, and her brother heeded the unspoken warning; she wasn't in the mood for jokes.

     "Sorry."

     They wove their way through the back streets and settled themselves outside the nursery window just in time to see Bernard jog out after a rambunctious toddler. Viola narrowed her eyes at his retreating back and turned away from the window to collect herself.

     Avery joined her in the shadows, and the two siblings kept the interior of the nursery in sight. The room cast a yellow light upon the snow, and they were careful to avoid it. He scraped his lower lip with his teeth and picked at his cuticle. _I'm not used to being the stable one. I don't know if I can keep this up._

     "This should be _our_ home," Viola grumbled, almost to herself.

     "That ship sailed a long time ago," Avery went from picking to chewing, a habit his sister hated, but she wasn't paying any attention to him. "There's no work for us here, which means no housing-"

     "Nonsense! Do you remember back when Jack Frost froze _him_ three years ago? I heard from our sources that they kept his house tidy for him while he was away. And yet, just because _we_ didn't make the cut, we had to leave! No second chances, nothing!" Viola realized she was beginning to raise her voice, and she lowered it to a whisper. "Do you have it?"

     Avery sighed, removed his pack, and lightly patted it to indicate that he did. Bernard wasn't _his_ favorite person, either. If an Elf didn't pass basic training, whether it was due to poor work ethic or a general dislike of children, there _were_ no second chances; a person's nature couldn't just _change,_ and (according to Bernard) the pressures and fast-paced work environment just weren't for everyone. Santa was the one to pick out the hopefuls for training, but it was Bernard who had the final say on who made it and who didn't. Avery _knew_ all this, and still the potency of his sister's hatred unnerved him. Sure, Bernard was on _their_ 'Naughty List', but this wasn't even the same Santa...

     "They're coming back," Viola warned, and they fell silent as Bernard entered the room, carrying Buddy in his arms.

     It was a long, cold wait. They watched with mounting annoyance as Buddy selected a story for Bernard to read, only to change his mind three times, get out of bed, and pick out a different one.

     Avery whispered to his sister, "Doesn't he know that kid's just stalling for time?"

     "Sure, he knows." Viola replied, "Why he's just going _along_ with it is beyond me."

     They strained their ears to hear what Bernard was saying.

* * *

     "Are you _sure_ you want this one?" Bernard tapped the book's cardboard cover with his index finger, raising his eyebrows and holding the boy's gaze with his own. He was a patient Elf, at least where children were concerned, but he meant business now.

     "Yeah!"

     "Are you _positive?_ Because once you're in bed, that's it. No more getting up. Is this _really_ the book you want?"

     Buddy scampered over to his bed and quickly got under the covers. "Ready!"

     Bernard couldn't help but chuckle at that as he crossed the room and sat on the chair beside the bed. "Okay, then. 'Peter Rabbit' it is."

* * *

     Over an hour later, Buddy was just beginning to drift off to sleep. The story hadn't worked, but humming seemed to be doing the trick. 'Silent Night', if the siblings were correct. Avery tried to get comfortable, but after a while he gave up and groused, "I can't feel my heinie..."

     " _You're_ the one who insisted on sitting down because you were 'tired'," Viola shot back. The wait wasn't doing her temper any favors, either. "Get up and brush off the snow. You'll be fine."

     Avery got up with a grunt and did as he was told, but the numbness remained. "Why did we have to leave so early anyway?"

     "I thought the little brat would have fallen asleep by now..." Viola ran a hand anxiously through her short black pixie cut. "He's nearly there, though...and Bernard's looking a little blinky himself. I don't think it'll be long."

     It wasn't. Buddy was asleep two minutes after Viola finished speaking, and Bernard looked at his watch before tip-toeing out of the room. Viola and Avery could see the other room from where they were, and they watched Bernard tidy up a bit before settling down in an overstuffed armchair and closing his eyes.

     Avery reached out to open the window, but Viola stopped him and signaled for him to wait. As if on cue, Bernard twitched and scratched his nose before adjusting his position. They waited for about ten minutes before Bernard's breathing grew slow and deep, and only then did Viola allow her brother to act.

     The window opened easily without a sound, and the siblings climbed silently into the nursery. This was the most dangerous part of their plan, because the draft from the window might wake Buddy, but the boy didn't stir.

     "Yeah, he's out," Avery mouthed the words as he opened his pack.

     Viola carefully lifted Buddy in her arms, and for one awful moment she thought that they were caught, because Buddy _did_ open his eyes just then. She pasted on a friendly-looking smile. "Shhh..."

     Buddy looked puzzled, but he closed his eyes again and nestled his head against her shoulder. As far as he knew, this was just another one of Daddy's helpers, and he soon fell asleep again.

     Viola kept an ear tilted at the door and listened for any sign that Bernard might be waking up, but his soft snoring reassured her. In fact, so relaxed was she that she went to the door and peeked through the crack at him. _You pompous jerk. You have no idea what's happening, do you? I wonder how long it will be before someone figures it out..._

     " _Viola._ "

     Her brother's voice never went above a hissing whisper, but Bernard snorted in his sleep and stirred. They both froze, but his snoring soon resumed, and they sagged with relief. Viola shot her brother a dirty look, but he simply pointed to the bed.

     Lying in Buddy's place was...Buddy. Or, rather, something that looked exactly like him. Its chest rose and fell with the breath of slumber, and Avery gave Viola a thumbs-up. They left the way they came, through the window, and Avery closed it behind them.

     Bernard slept on, unaware of the thing that now inhabited Buddy's bed. A part of him must have sensed that something wasn't quite right, because even as he slept his brow was creased in an uneasy frown. Their lives were about to take an alarming turn.


	2. Discovery

     The next day, it quickly became obvious that something was very wrong. Normally, Buddy _loved_ being picked up and held, but all of a sudden he refused to tolerate it. It wasn't even that he got _upset_ about it; he struggled hard to get down, but there was absolutely no emotion in his eyes, and he hadn't spoken at all since the night before.

     The Council of Legendary Figures was supposed to have a meeting that day, something about Mother Nature having a 'bad feeling' about something, and Santa had gotten dressed earlier than usual and left before Carol and Buddy were up. Carol knew to expect this, but what she _didn't_ expect was the abrupt change in her son's demeanor. Getting him dressed was an ordeal, and he refused to make eye contact with her.

     "What's wrong, Beansprout?" she tried to stroke the child's cheek, but he actually bared his teeth at her and began to systematically throw his toys at the wall, one by one. "Buddy! Buddy, _no,_ we don't throw things!"

     His response was to dodge his mother's attempt at picking him up, pelt across the room to his night stand, and hurl his piggy bank at her. Luckily, she was able to evade it, but it shattered on the far wall in an explosion of coins and ceramic shards. " _Buddy!_ " Carol cried, frightened rather than angry. She positioned herself between her son and the mess to keep him from hurting himself on the fragments and got out her cell phone. Meeting or no meeting, Scott needed to be here.

* * *

     Bernard stood at the back of the room, silently observing the exchange that was taking place before him, and he wasn't sure if he should laugh or be exasperated. The meeting started with the usual exchange of pleasantries, but it quickly degenerated into Cupid and Tooth Fairy sniping back and forth after Tooth Fairy's request for a name change was shut down yet again. The Elf had to admit, he felt a little bit bad for Tooth Fairy. The poor guy just couldn't seem to catch a break.

     "When are you gonna just get _over_ it?" Cupid crossed his legs in mid-air. "Your name is _Tooth Fairy._ Changing your name won't get rid of those cute little butterfly wings, so just _accept_ it."

     Tooth Fairy, who was a large, stocky guy with a square jaw, reddened considerably. Aside from his wings, there was nothing remotely feminine about him, and he opened his mouth to make what was sure to be a scathing rebuttal.

     Santa spoke first, however. "Come on, Cupid, knock it off. I'm serious. You have a go at him nearly every year, and I gotta tell ya, it's _really_ getting old."

     " _Thank_ you, Santa," Tooth Fairy lifted his chin defiantly, ignoring Cupid's 'who cares' shrug.

     Jack Frost sat at Santa's left, his hands folded on the tabletop, and he idly tapped his thumbs together. Lucy's 'unfreezing' was still in effect, but he'd elected to at least re-freeze his hair, preferring the spiky frosted look to the limp comb-over he'd ended up with. Physically, he looked similar to how he had looked when he was cold-hearted and selfish, although he did keep the white suit. Personality-wise, although he retained much of his catty sarcasm, he was much nicer. That didn't mean these meetings no longer bored him, though! "Can we just get to the point, please? Mother Nature, you said you-"

     Scott's cell phone began to go off, loudly playing 'Deck the Halls', and all eyes turned to him. He chuckled sheepishly as he fumbled in the pocket of his red coat. "Must have forgotten to turn it off. Oh...it's Carol. I better take this, she wouldn't call me in a meeting unless it was important."

     "Of course," Mother Nature smiled, though her smile was strained.

     Sandman snored blissfully as he rested his head on his forearms, and Easter Bunny muttered to Tooth Fairy, "Just ignore him. If he can't even be bothered to slip on a pair of boxers under that toga, he has no room to talk."

     Tooth Fairy snickered as Easter Bunny nudged him, and Mother Nature brought her gavel down hard on the block. Both males jumped guiltily and immediately stopped laughing.

     " _Easter Bunny!_ Tooth Fairy, don't encourage him."

     Cupid didn't seem at all bothered by Easter Bunny's comment, but he couldn't let that pass without comment. "Who asked you to look?"

     The gavel came down again. "Cupid! I'm not going to warn you again."

     Cupid held up his hands, wordlessly promising to behave, but he was the only one who didn't look intimidated by Mother Nature's capricious temper.

     Father Time, unsurprisingly, simply stood near Mother Nature and waited. Everything happened in its own time, and even interruptions had their place.

     "What?" Scott frowned, motioning for everyone to quiet down. "Carol, slow down, I can't understand you."

     Bernard moved a little closer, all the color draining from his face as he strained to hear Carol's end of the conversation. All he was able to make out was Buddy's name and 'you have to come _now_ '. Bernard's heart immediately began to hammer in his chest, and he braced himself for whatever was coming.

     "Okay...okay, I'll be there as soon as I can. Yeah. Yeah, I promise. Love you, too. Bye." Santa put his cell phone away, and after exchanging a look with Bernard, he cleared his throat. "I'm sorry to rush things, Mother Nature, but something's come up. Can we try to bring this to a close?"

     Bernard leaned over and asked in a hushed voice, "What's wrong?"

     "Buddy's been acting up today, is all..." replied Santa. He didn't seem all that worried, and most of the others relaxed. Bernard and Mother Nature, however, did not.

     Mother Nature glanced at Father Time, who remained as impassive as ever. "Santa...while I have no intention of prying into your personal affairs, this may or may not tie into my reasons for calling this meeting."

     Santa's brow furrowed. What could his son having a tantrum possibly have to do with this? "What do you mean?"

     "During the last two weeks, I've sensed a slight 'shift' in the natural order. Something has either changed, or is about to." Mother Nature turned her gavel in her hands, as if she could find the answers there. Even Cupid was serious now; it was unusual for Mother Nature to look this uncertain about anything. "Now, the energy of this 'shift' _seems_ to originate from two points. One of them is hidden from me, but the other one appears to be _here._ "

     Santa was on his feet before Mother Nature could finish her last sentence, and all the rosiness was gone from his cheeks. "And you're just telling me about this _now?_ "

     "Before last night, I wasn't able to pin it down," she explained.

     "And what is ' _it_ '?" Santa was nearly yelling at that point, and the fact that Mother Nature didn't take him to task for it was more telling than anything else. Someone put a hand on Santa's arm, and he shook it off before he realized it was Bernard.

     "Santa," the Elf said anxiously, "we...that is, _you_ should go check on them."

     Mother Nature nodded in wholehearted agreement, and she and the rest of the Council trailed after Santa as he bolted for his living quarters.

* * *

     Buddy was eerily quiet when they arrived, and he didn't react at all when Santa picked him up. He seemed perfectly fine, if a little bit spacey. Santa put him down again, and the boy simply watched expressionlessly as Carol filled them all in. It was almost as if he didn't understand anything that was being said. They could have been discussing a new way to brew tea, rather than speculating about what had set him off, for all the reaction he gave. He held a little stuffed rabbit in his hands, but he hardly seemed to be aware of it.

     As soon as he spotted Bernard, however, he cocked back his arm and threw the toy at the Elf. Bernard caught it easily, and hesitantly offered the toy back to the child.

     Buddy turned his head away.

     Tooth Fairy observed this with a speculative scowl. This was _not_ normal behavior for the child they all knew and loved, and this was somehow _familiar_ to him. "Bernard, why don't you see how he reacts when _you_ pick him up?"

     Bernard looked to Santa and Mrs. Claus for permission, and Santa nodded. "Okay...Buddy, you want up?"

     No answer. Bernard leaned over, instinctively moving slowly to avoid spooking him, though it felt wrong somehow. Buddy wasn't afraid of him! But then again, Buddy didn't normally show any kind of aggression, either. Bernard was able to pick the boy up, but a moment later he nearly dropped him again. The child seemed to respond normally, wrapping his around Bernard's neck as if for security. That is, until he dug his sharp little milk teeth into the Elf's shoulder.

     " _Ouch!_ " The fabric was thick enough to keep Buddy from breaking the skin, but Bernard could already tell that the bite would leave a nasty bruise.

     "Oh!" Carol gasped and quickly retrieved her son from Bernard. "Buddy, that was _very_ naughty! I'm _so_ sorry, Bernard. I don't know what's gotten into him today!"

     "It's all right," Bernard rubbed his shoulder, all of the color draining out of his face. It was like they were dealing with an entirely different child!

     "No, it really isn't," Carol struggled to hold onto Buddy, who kicked and squirmed but never made a peep. Then, to her utter shock, she heard a clicking sound right by her ear as her son tried to bite her and missed. " _Buddy!_ Scott..."

     Santa took his son from his wife, and gazed sternly into the boy's face. "Buddy, _no_ biting. Biting is _very_ naughty. You do _not_ bite Bernard, or your mother. You know better than that. It's time for the time-out chair."

     Bernard slowly shook his head as he absentmindedly continued to rub his shoulder. The thought that Buddy might be sick crossed his mind, but Buddy had been sick before, and while being unwell made him a bit fussy, it _never_ made him act violently. In fact, aside from when Buddy had been teething and hadn't yet learned that biting hurts, he _never_ did this! Last night, everything had been perfectly fine!  Bernard's stomach became an icy knot of dread.

     A thought occurred to Tooth Fairy, and while he didn't even want to entertain it, there was no 'unthinking' it. As much as he loathed his wings, and the negative connotation attached to the word 'fairy', he and others like him had a lore and history all their own. An abrupt shift in personality could indicate some kind of emotional trauma, but in rare cases, it could be a sign of something else. _An entirely different child._ "Um...Santa? Mrs. Claus?"

     Tooth Fairy's voice was so low that Carol scarcely heard what he was saying, but Buddy heard him loud and clear. The child bared his teeth in an expression none of them had seen on him before. Such a look of raw hatred had no business appearing on a face so young!

     "What is it?" Santa asked distractedly, trying to control his struggling son as Carol fought back tears. Bernard laid a hand on Carol's arm, and she reached up and clasped it tightly. So tightly, in fact, that Bernard felt and heard his knuckles crack, and she loosened her grip with a mumbled apology.

     "You're not gonna like it," Tooth Fairy sighed. "Have you ever heard of something called a 'Changeling'?"

     Santa hadn't, but Bernard and Carol had, and she promptly burst into tears.

     Tooth Fairy looked into Buddy's eyes and said in a voice that was heavy with sadness, "You're not really Buddy Claus...are you?"

     'Buddy' made his first and only vocalization of the day. He growled in a raspy voice that was too deep for _any_ three-year-old, "You tattle-tale..."

     Then, before anyone could say or do anything further, 'Buddy's' form began to stretch and warp like warm taffy. A moment later, Santa held in his arms an inanimate doll fashioned out of corn husks, about the size of a three-year-old child, and as lifeless as a doorstop.

     Jack Frost was the only one there who was able to give a coherent response. "Oh, _snowballs..._ "

     Bernard covered his mouth with his hand as Santa dropped the doll to take his hysterical wife into his arms. For a moment, Bernard thought he might vomit. He didn't understand! Everything seemed _fine_ last night! Right up until Buddy fell asleep, and Bernard had decided to catch a nap himself, as he had done many times before...

     Then he remembered being woken up by Santa and Carol, and wondering why it was so chilly in the nursery. The window was shut, as it should have been, but the curtains were open. Bernard remembered closing them again without a second thought, and he remembered bidding the Clauses goodnight.

_Oh, no...No, no, no, please, no, by all that's good and holy, no!_

     It happened on his watch. It was all _his_ fault!


	3. Discussion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it took so long to get this one out, but I've been having a lot of computer trouble lately. Part of it is because this laptop is old, and it doesn't seem to handle software updates as well as it should. So, for a few days, my laptop was basically a very expensive paperweight. I got it working again, though, and I didn't lose any data, so that's a plus! Well, actually, my dad got it working again, and he's not even sure how he did it, but the point is it worked.
> 
> I had the main theme for 'Interstellar' playing on repeat while I wrote this. It seems to fit. :)

     Bernard and most of the Council waited anxiously outside the bedroom shared by Santa and Mrs. Claus. Sandman was inside with Santa and Carol, waiting to see whether or not his services would be needed. Carol didn't want a sedative, and Santa didn't want the news about Buddy to get out just yet, so Dr. Hismus hadn't been called.

     So far, Bernard was the only Elf who was aware of what had happened, and he wondered how long it would be before the news spread to all of Elfburg. Curtis, at least, would have to be informed, and after that business with Santa's Snow Globe three years ago, Bernard wasn't sure if his 'Number Two Elf' could be trusted to keep such a big secret under his hat. Truth be told, at the moment he wasn't even thinking about that. The conversation that filtered through the closed door, punctuated by Carol's uneven breathing, sliced into his heart and made him wish that such a thing as time travel was possible.

     "It's not a drug, Mrs. Claus," Sandman explained patiently, "This sand _does_ have a mild sedative effect, and you will be able to fall asleep if you _choose_ to-"

     "I _told_ you, I'm _not_ going to sleep!"

     "Honey, he's only trying to help-" Santa tried, but she cut him off as well.

     "Why aren't we looking for our _son?_ "

     Sandman was heard to clear his throat before speaking to Santa. "I'll just leave this here. Will you excuse me?"

     Whatever Santa said in response was too quiet to be heard, and a moment later Sandman came out of the room and shut the door behind him. He was immediately bombarded with questions.

     Easter Bunny's nose twitched. "What's happening?"

     "Is she all right?" demanded Bernard.

     "Should you maybe put her to sleep anyway?" Cupid suggested, only to receive an elbow to the ribs from Tooth Fairy. "'Ey!"

     "She said she doesn't _want_ it! She wants to know what happened to her son. Would _you_ want to sleep if your kid was missing?" scolded Tooth Fairy.

     "I don't have any kids."

     Sandman covered his mouth, smothering a yawn. "Is it my turn to speak yet?"

     Mother Nature held up a hand, signaling for the others to quiet down. "How is she?"

     "As well as can be expected," Sandman folded his hands and moved away from the door. "Santa's trying to calm her down, and she's doing her best, but..."

     Sandman shook his head, and Bernard lowered his eyes, but he quickly looked up again when Santa came out of the room. Carol wasn't with him.

     Sandman noticed this at once. "Is she asleep?"

     "No," Santa said shortly, "She needs some time."

     "Kicked ya out, huh?"

     Tooth Fairy went to nudge the cherub again, but Cupid quickly hovered out of reach, and Tooth Fairy held up a fist. "I'm warning you...If you think you can out-fly me, keep it up."

     "Yeah, she did," Santa folded his arms, bothered not by the careless question, but by something else. He studied Tooth Fairy's face for any sign that he knew what had happened to Buddy, but the large man seemed almost as confused as everyone else. "How did you know what he...what _it_ was? What do you know about this?"

     "Uh..." Tooth Fairy shifted uncomfortably and fluttered his wings. It wasn't enough to lift him off the ground, and he had no intention of flying away. "Well, I..."

     Mother Nature put a reassuring hand on Tooth Fairy's shoulder. "No one suspects _you,_ Tooth Fairy. However, creating Changelings was outlawed a long time ago, was it not?"

     "Yeah," Tooth Fairy reluctantly admitted, "About six hundred years ago, give or take. Father Time could give you the exact number, but that's not important now."

     Jack Frost, who had been so quiet that the others nearly forgot he was there, chimed in. "There was a time when Fairies and Elves were every bit as mischievous as Sprites. But there hasn't been a Changeling since they were banned. They were too..." He rolled his wrist a few times as he tried to think of the word he wanted.

     "Unpredictable," Tooth Fairy supplied, before adding grimly, "and _dangerous._ Depending on what the one who planted the Changeling wanted, it could either appear to be weak and sick, or it could be aggressive and nasty. Normally, the Changelings weren't discovered at all..."

     Santa didn't care about any of this, at least not as much as he probably should have. "Well, this one was. And what happened to the kids? What happened to _my_ kid _?_ "

     "There's really no way to know for sure," Tooth Fairy wound a length of dental floss around one of his index fingers. It was an odd thing to find comfort in, but for some reason he was able to answer more directly if he focused part of his attention on that simple action. "but the kids were always alive. Sometimes a Fairy mother would lose a child and go mad, and she'd switch out a Changeling for a human baby and raise it as her own. Or it could be for revenge. I mean, some of us can be pretty vindictive when you tick us off. But the kids, at least, were usually okay."

     " _Usually?_ "

     The other Council members had their attention focused on Tooth Fairy, who was liking it less and less. Cupid, surprisingly enough, came to his rescue.

     "Okay, look...We have a pretty good idea of what happened, and that means we have a chance of gettin' your son back. We need to figure out _when_ it happened."

     Bernard put a hand to his chest as if he had a pain, and, in a way, he did. "I...I know _when_ it happened. I just don't know _how,_ or who it was..."

     All eyes immediately flicked from Tooth Fairy to Bernard, and the Elf looked down at his black polished shoes. It never occurred to him to keep silent about what he knew, or _thought_ he knew. It didn't even dawn on him that he might get in trouble for this. Even if it had, he would have welcomed whatever punishment Santa could throw at him.

     "What do you mean? Why didn't you say anything before?"

     Bernard couldn't see Santa's expression, and he knew from his tone that he wasn't assigning blame, but that didn't make this any easier.

     Santa approached Bernard, his booted footfalls slow and quiet, and he gently put his hand on the distraught Elf's shoulder. "What do you know, Bernard? _Tell_ me."

     The bedroom door's hinges were freshly oiled, and no one heard it when Carol peeked out to listen.

     "Well...last night, before I put him to bed, we were playing hide-and-seek. He hid behind the curtains, and I forgot to close them afterwards. I...I put him to bed, and I took a nap, and I..." Bernard's breath hitched in his throat, and he took a moment to make sure he remained in control of his emotions.

     "It's okay, go on," Santa urged, and Bernard flinched at the mix of fear and compassion in his voice.

     "When you woke me up, I went back in because I forgot my hat, remember?" He asked, and went on when Santa nodded to show that he did. "I noticed that the room was cold, as if the window was open, but it was shut. It was the _curtains_ that were open. I...I forgot to close them. I...I think it someone came in through the window when I was asleep, because he was acting completely normal before that. Santa, I...I'm so sorry..."

     There was a long, pregnant silence before Mrs. Claus came out of the room. She ignored the murmurings of the others and her husband's concerned look, and her eyes glimmered with tears, but she was more or less composed as she spoke. "We _told_ you it was okay to nap after Buddy was asleep, if you were tired. Didn't we?"

     "Yes, but...if I hadn't..."

     " _This_ is what happened," Carol said firmly, wiping away her tears with a vicious swipe. "and it's nobody's fault, except for the bastard who took my son."

     Such language wasn't typically used at the North Pole, but in this case no one so much as batted an eye.

     "But..." Bernard took a step back. If he didn't leave soon, he was going to embarrass himself by crying in front of everyone, and that certainly wouldn't help matters.

     "No," Carol shook her head. She very nearly went over to hug him, but stopped herself in time, understanding that this would be a very bad idea at the moment. " _None_ of this is your fault, Bernard."

     "It _is!_ " The Elf held his head, his fingers digging into his beret. "And even if it isn't, it happened on _my_ watch. I-I'm sorry, would...would you please excuse me?"

     Without waiting for an answer, Bernard turned and hurried away at a fast walk, his slight limp making itself known. No one followed him, though Santa and Carol certainly looked like they wanted to.

     Mother Nature briefly put a hand over her face, but when she lowered it she was all business again. "We must search the nursery and surrounding area for signs."

     "Signs of what?" Easter Bunny cocked his head. "We already _found_ the Changeling."

     Santa, who had his arm around Carol and was rubbing her shoulder, answered the question. "Look for anything that shouldn't be there."

     Tooth Fairy, who had unwrapped the dental floss from one index finger and was winding it around the other, looked up again. "Look for a Fairy Ring. Um...a ring of mushrooms. Usually, they're red with white spots on them, and there's always thirteen."

     Jack Frost looked doubtful. "How can you be sure it's a Fairy, and not a Sprite? My kind used to make Changelings, too, you know."

     "I'm _not_ sure."

* * *

     The last thing Bernard wanted to do right now was explain himself to the other Elves, and he teleported to the seldom-traveled back alleys. Eventually, these would lead to the Workshop, and he supposed he would have to find Curtis and explain everything to him. That was for later. Right now, he needed a few moments to clear his head.

     Why did Mrs. Claus have to be so...so forgiving? Was _this_ how she would punish him for what he had done...or _not_ done? By killing him with kindness?

 _Who would want to take Buddy?_ Bernard couldn't think of anyone from the outside who even _knew_ about the boy, other than extended family, and _they_ certainly wouldn't have done this!

     It was bad enough that this should happen at all, but their busy season was just beginning, and there was far more at stake than a missing child. Toys had to be made, packaged, and wrapped, and overseeing that was Bernard's job, above all else.

 _Curtis can do it._ Bernard thought, then emphatically shook his head. For the first time in centuries, his mind wasn't on his job at all, and he wasn't sure how he felt about that.

     But...

     Curtis _could_ do it. Bernard could participate in the search (he assumed that there would be one), and Curtis could oversee the Christmas preparations.

_But is Buddy_ _**safe** _ _, wherever he is? Is he scared? Is he cold, or hungry?_

     Bernard's vision blurred, and he leaned against a wall and pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes to keep the tears from falling. It worked...mostly. He took a few deep breaths and rubbed his face before pushing off from the wall and shuffling into the alley behind the Workshop. He would enter through the back door, stop at a restroom to wash his face and make sure he didn't look as unhinged as he felt, and he would track Curtis down and explain the situation...

     But he never got that far. Thirteen snow-covered lumps stood in a circle between him and the path to the door, and while he did see them, he didn't take much notice of them. At least, not until he stepped into the ring with the intention of crossing it to get to the door. Bernard halted in mid-stride when he felt the familiar tingle of magic, and he had teleported often enough to recognize it as teleportation magic, but it wasn't _he_ who had initiated it.

     He felt himself being _pulled,_ but at the same time he didn't feel like he was moving at all; he couldn't decide if it was painful, or merely uncomfortable, but he knew for certain that he didn't like it. The door in front of him seemed to stretch and twist, but he knew that it wasn't the _door_ that was moving; it was _him!_

     Bernard tried to resist the pull, but quickly realized that he held no power over this strange magic. As vertigo set in, he shut his eyes to block out the kaleidoscopic swirling that now surrounded him on all sides.

     Then, all at once, the feeling of being forcefully transported somewhere ceased. Bernard stifled his nausea and cracked open one eye.

     He was in total darkness. Wonderful.


	4. Alpha

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The background music I played while I wrote this is '3 Hours of Scary, Ominous & Creepy Horror Music | Instrumental Halloween Music' on Dark Music World's channel on YouTube, if you want to listen to it. It really sets the mood, I think! Bernard is about to learn that things aren't always what they seem, and we meet another main character.

     The first thing Bernard noticed, other than the fact that he couldn't see anything, was that the air around him was very stale and smelled faintly of something he couldn't identify. He thought he might have smelled it before, but it wasn't strong enough for him to be sure. He tried to teleport, but found that he couldn't tap into his magic at all. It was like it wasn't even there! He fought against his rising panic and forced himself to breathe normally as he took stock of his situation.

_Okay...don't panic. All in one piece?_

     He felt his arms and legs, and quickly determined that he felt no pain anywhere, aside from the usual dull ache he'd had in his right leg for years.

_Yes. Now...try to get your bearings. You're over a thousand years old, Bernard. Get a grip. You haven't been harmed yet. Ugh, don't use the word 'yet'. Way to psych yourself out. Like being thrown into darkness isn't doing enough of that on its own..._

     Bernard didn't often have conversations with himself inside his head, but at the moment there was no one around. He sighed and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand.

_Okay...okay...it's warm here. Not hot, but warmer than the North Pole._

     He tapped his foot three times, then cringed as the sound echoed more loudly than he expected it to.

_The floor feels like rock. I can't feel anything around me, so...I must be in a cave, or something. It feels like it's pretty big, but I can't tell. I think I smell water...and I hear something._

     Bernard tilted his head and strained to hear better. It sounded like someone was playing music on some sort of flute or pipe, but he couldn't tell exactly where it was coming from, or what it might mean for him. The song was actually familiar, and he realized that he'd heard it before. It sounded like 'The Lonesome Boatman', and he realized that it was being played on the tin whistle. Very well, too, not that he was a reliable judge. He opened his mouth to call out to the player, but shut it again when it occurred to him that he didn't know who or what would answer him. The music might not be so comforting if the person (if it even _was_ a person) wasn't friendly.

     He blinked hard as shapes began to present themselves to him; he wasn't sure if his eyes were playing tricks on him in the darkness, but the shapes remained when he opened them again. As his eyes adjusted, he realized that this place wasn't _completely_ dark. Not far from where he stood was a road, and lining it on either side, at regular intervals, were dozens of small Jack-O-Lanterns. Bernard realized that the familiar smell from before was roasting pumpkin, and it was caused by the candles residing within the gourds. He didn't recognize the smell before because it was usually accompanied by the aromas of cinnamon, nutmeg, ginger, and allspice.

 _Never mind how I got here...why would_ _**those** _ _be there? Since when do Jack-O-Lanterns belong in a cave?_

     Bernard looked down, and saw that he was standing in the center of a ring of mushrooms. He tried stepping out of it and back in again, but nothing happened.

_So, it's one-way. Great._

     Still seeing no one, Bernard cautiously padded away from the ring, picking his way through a litter of sharp limestone gravel to the road, which was paved in what appeared to be uneven cobblestones. An underground river was visible now on the other side of the road, and as Bernard gazed across the water's unrippled surface he nearly had a heart attack.

     Two glowing green orbs, each roughly the size of a baseball, broke the surface and seemed to float there. They didn't move any closer, but to Bernard's horror he realized that they were _eyes._ Something was in that water, and it was _watching_ him. The water carried those eyes slowly downstream, but with a _swish-splash_ they lurched back into their starting position. Bernard thought he caught a glimpse of a sickle-shaped tail breaking the surface, and this in turn broke the creature's spell over him.

     " _Aah!_ " Bernard clapped a hand over his mouth, effectively cutting off his own scream, and ran blindly on the road, not sure where it led to and not particularly caring. _Anything_ to get away from those eyes! He nearly tripped over a skinny black cat, which drew itself up and hissed before bounding off into the darkness.

     When he finally stopped to catch his breath, he turned and saw that the eyes were still there, but they hadn't pursued him. As he watched, they seemed to go out like a pair of green light bulbs. The creature had submerged. But was it gone?

     It seemed to be.

     And so was the music.

_Oh great, what did I just do?_

     He strained his ears, listening for any signs that someone had followed him, but he couldn't hear anything other than the echoes of his own breathing. It occurred to him that if he wanted to escape notice, he probably shouldn't stay on the road, but where could he go?

     Was _Buddy_ in this awful place?

     Bernard rubbed his face and was in mid-groan before he realized that something was nearby, and it _knew_ he was there. He held his breath and froze in response to a faint _scuffing_ sound, sort of like the noise bare feet might make on stone if the walker wasn't in any particular hurry. He knew two things simultaneously; the sound was directly on his left, and it was fifteen feet away _at most._ "Ohhh, silver _bells!_ " he ground out in a harsh whisper.

     As if in answer there was a _snap-click_ , the sound of someone swallowing, and the crinkle of a paper bag. Bernard slowly turned to face whoever this stranger was, and his brown eyes grew round and huge before traveling up, up, up...

     The creature stood at an impressive six-foot-four on digitigrade legs, and as it slowly advanced on Bernard he realized that the scuffing sound was made by the enormous, doglike paws. It wore cut-off jeans that had inch-long white threads trailing from the cuffs and a gray T-shirt. The mouthpiece of a tin whistle poked out of its left hip pocket; now Bernard knew where the music came from. It also wore something around its neck, but it was too obscured by brownish-gray fur to be seen clearly. The arms were a bit longer in proportion to the body than a human's arms would be, and the inner forearms, the front of the neck, and the underside of the creature's long muzzle were creamy white. Golden-yellow eyes regarded Bernard with something that might have been amusement. Big, triangular ears, oriented firmly on him. Long, bushy tail...

     A Werewolf. Could things possibly get any worse?

     It was then that Bernard noticed what the Werewolf was holding. In one hand was a rumpled-looking paper bag, and in the other was a brown strip of _something_. Dried meat, perhaps?

     Did Werewolves eat _Elves_ , by any chance?

     Popping the strip of 'whatever-it-was' into its mouth, the Werewolf chewed twice, its jaws making the same _snap-click_ as before. Then it... _she_...actually smiled. "Hi."

     Bernard blinked a few times, and nearly dug a finger into his ear, uncertain if he'd heard right. The voice was a low alto, but it was definitely the voice of a female. He decided that the best way to get out of this with his skin intact was to be polite. "Hi?"

     The Werewolf tilted her head, and the hand that wasn't holding the paper bag came to rest on her hip. "New around here, are you?"

     "W-well..." His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat. He tried to place her slight lilting accent, but it was so faded that he couldn't narrow it down. At least this Werewolf hadn't devoured him yet, but he knew he had to come up with an excuse, and fast, otherwise there was no telling what she would do!

     "It's been a while since the Dark Elves took in a newbie. I have to say, they're usually a bit...well... _younger-looking._ " She shrugged and fished another strip of dried meat from the paper bag, twirling it idly between her thumb and forefinger. Bernard visibly perked at the term 'Dark Elves', but she didn't react to this at all, didn't even seem to have noticed it. "Jerky?" She offered him the strip of dried meat, which he declined with a wave of his hand.

     "Dark Elves...Yes, that's exactly why I'm here. Um, no thanks." _'Dark Elves'? There's no such thing! There couldn't be..._

     "Suit yourself," She shrugged again, made short work of the meat, and rolled the top of the paper bag closed. "Well, come on, then. I'll show you where they meet."

     "Oh, that won't be necessary!" Bernard hurriedly backed away from her, holding up his hands as if to ward her off. "I have an excellent sense of direction. I can find it myself."

     "Ah," She said flatly, making no move to close the distance between them. "You're an excitable wee fellow, aren't you?"

     Scottish or Irish, surely. And what in the name of Christmas did she mean by 'excitable'? "Excuse me?"

     "You look at me as if I mean to _eat_ you."

     Bernard's heavy eyebrows lowered now into a scowl. Now she was _mocking_ him! As if he didn't already have enough on his plate, now he had to deal with a disrespectful stranger who probably intended mischief of some sort! He folded his arms and glared up at her. "The thought _did_ cross my mind. And who are you anyway?"

     She laughed. Actually _laughed_ at him. "Now you're angry! That's better than frightened, I suppose. Frightened people aren't as much fun to work with."

     "You're making fun of me! Why shouldn't I be angry?"

     The Werewolf abruptly stopped laughing and took a step forward, and anger immediately morphed into terror. But the Werewolf merely dusted off a large rock and sat down. "All right. I like to have a bit of sport with the newcomers, but I'll not harm you unless you give me a reason. _And_ I'll have your name, if you please."

     "I asked you first!" Bernard pointed out.

     "You're on _my_ turf. If a stranger entered your home without declaring himself, wouldn't you be on your guard?"

     Bernard clasped his hands behind his back to keep himself from biting his nails. She hadn't actually _done_ anything to him yet, and aside from her appearance their exchange was almost normal. If she were another Elf he would have no trouble whatsoever with putting her in her place. "Yes," he agreed tersely.

     "There you are, then." She pointed a long, claw-tipped finger at him, and seemed gratified that he didn't flinch at this. "Name?"

 _Dark Elves,_ she had said. Bernard wracked his brain, trying to recall _anyone_ among his kind who might have decided to walk a dark path, and the only thing he could come up with was job applicants who had not made the cut. Would-be Santa's Helpers who weren't suited for the job. If this was the case, then the last thing he wanted to do was give anyone down here his true name! Even as he hesitated, the Werewolf seemed to grow impatient; her ears canted back to lie flat on her skull, and her brow beetled.

     "It's no' a trick question. Did you hit your head, or something?"

     "Uhh...I _might_ have." Bernard squinted one eye.

     "You 'might have', but you didn't." She gave a very canine-sounding snort and tried to establish eye contact with the Elf, but he was looking at down at his shoes. "You don't want to give me your name; fair enough. What shall I _call_ you, then? I suppose 'Hey, You!' would suffice, but that seems a bit rude."

     Bernard hated lying, mostly because he wasn't very good at it, but he didn't see how he had any choice. She had even given him an out, so he decided to take it. "Curtis. I'm...I'm Curtis. I was, um, asked to join the Dark Elves, but I seem to have taken the wrong...um..." He drew a circle in the air with a forefinger. "You know, _those_ things. And I..." And he got the uncomfortable feeling that he had gone a bit too far with his explanation and dug himself into a nice little hole.

     The Werewolf leaned back a bit and folded her arms. She was quiet for a very long time, long enough for Bernard to break a sweat and contemplate running, but she would be able to catch him without a problem, even if he didn't have a bad leg. Finally, the Werewolf leaned forward again and looked him steadily in the eyes. "I don't know who you are, or what you want. But I think the time for playing games is over. I thought that _maybe_ The Founders had brought you here to join them without telling anyone; they don't tell the rest of us _anything,_ really. And I was willing to give you the benefit of the doubt, but now I'm _sure_ that you're making things up, and I don't like being lied to."

     Bernard swallowed. _She_ was the one playing games with _him,_ he thought! It occurred to him that, maybe, she was doing it defensively in order to find out whether or not he was a threat, but that hardly mattered if she meant to punish him for not being entirely truthful! He shifted his weight to his rear foot, preparing to bolt, even though he knew it would be hopeless.

     "Don't even think about it. I'll catch you before you make it three steps, and I already promised not to harm you." She folded her hands on her lap, as if that might make her appear less threatening, but Bernard got the impression that he was on the other side of a crime boss's desk, and he was about to be fitted with a pair of cement shoes.

     "Y-yeah, you _promised,_ but how do I know? You said 'unless I give you a reason', but you never said what those reasons _were!_ "

     She scowled, as if the question made her angry, but decided to answer it. "Let my actions be my proof. I haven't attacked you, and I'm sitting down and engaging you in civil conversation. But I don't know you, or your reasons for being here, and those people out there..."

     Bernard flinched when she raised a hand and pointed at...no, _past_ the river. There was a bridge he hadn't noticed before, and somewhere beyond the bridge were what appeared to be city lights in orange, green, red, and purple. He looked back at the Werewolf and waited for her to continue.

     "Those people are my _pack_. You might not be a threat to them, but then again, you _could_ be. So, I _strongly_ suggest that you start being honest with me..." The fur on the back of her neck and shoulders began to rise; she was losing her patience.

     "I don't _know._ " Bernard said helplessly.

     "All right..." she sighed, clearly holding onto her patience with everything she had. "What do you _think_ is your reason for being here?"

     She didn't believe him, and why should she? Bernard slowly shook his head, opened and closed his mouth a few times as he attempted to make the truth she wanted to hear come out of it, and then, all at once, something _broke._ Buddy was down here somewhere, he just _knew_ it, and this person could be an ally, if only she would _believe_ him! But she didn't, and he didn't even know how he had gotten here in the first place; he only suspected that it had something to do with that ring of mushrooms, and it no longer seemed to work. He covered his face and shook violently.

     The Werewolf thought he was cringing in terror at first, and she nearly admonished him again when a loud sob exploded from him and he fell to his knees. Her hackles immediately went back down as she stared down at the Elf in astonishment. She laid her ears back and muttered to herself, "Bollocks, I overdid it..."

     She got up and walked cautiously over to him, then knelt down. He was mostly silent, but he was crying _hard,_ and he didn't seem to care anymore whether or not she attacked him. She reached out and hesitantly touched his shoulder with a forefinger, and when he didn't react to that she laid her hand on his back. "There now, lad, I'm sorry. I confess I meant to scare you into telling the truth, but I wouldn't have harmed you either way. We're not really a violent bunch down here, but you _have_ to understand, we're all we've got. We protect our own. And you _may_ have been a threat. You might still be, for all I know, and this could be an act..."

     "I don't _know..._ I don't _know!_ " Bernard seemed to be locked into this one phrase. "I d-don't...don't..."

     "Hush, settle down. Here," she dug around in her pocket and handed him a rumpled orange hankie. "Blow your nose. Don't worry, it's clean."

     Bernard took it, drew in a hitching breath, and blew a loud honk as it slowly dawned on him that this dangerous-looking Werewolf, despite her obvious size and strength, was just a _person._ "Th-thanks...But...jeez, if you weren't gonna do anything, why'd you have to scare the daylights out of me?"

     She snorted and sat back on her haunches. "Because I didn't know what kind of guy you were. I still don't, really. Also, we're sort of on lock-down at the moment. No one in or out for the past two weeks." She wryly side-eyed him. "Allegedly. Plus, Christmas Elves are persona non grata down here. If you strolled into town without an escort...well..."

     "How did you know I was a Christmas Elf, and not a...a Dark Elf?"

     "Simple. Your little, whatever-they-are, the silver specks." The Werewolf pointed at her own cheek to indicate where the silver specks should be, probably because pointing at his might still spook him. "They're still _silver_. They haven't tarnished. Some of them don't tarnish _much,_ but yours are still bright and shiny. Plus, you smell like gingerbread and cocoa. It's a no-brainer."

     "I..." Bernard looked at the hankie in his hand, nearly offered it back, then shoved it into his pocket instead. "Look, it wasn't that you scared me...well, you did, but it was...I think someone _else_ is down here. Would _anyone_ here have the authority to leave? Anyone at all?"

     The Werewolf's ears perked, and she cocked her head like a curious puppy. "Someone else...? No one gets in or out without the permission of The Founders. And they would be the only ones who can travel where they please, lock-down or not. But...that doesn't make any sense..." she finished in a mutter.

     "What doesn't?"

     "Not important." The Werewolf rubbed her chin thoughtfully before urging him to continue. "Who do you think is down here?"

     Bernard rubbed a hand down his face and sighed before lowering his voice to a whisper. "Santa's son was...was kidnapped last night. Something called a 'Changeling' was left in his place, and...it...it happened when I was babysitting. I got down here by accident; I think I stepped into one of those ring things-"

     "A Fairy Ring..." she supplied, her eyes distant and blank. Whatever passed through her mind in that moment was a mystery, but she had the look of someone who was putting a few things together and didn't particularly like the result.

     Bernard shrugged, sniffling and looking quite hopeless. "I guess so. He...he's only three years old! Not _even._ He must be terrified. If he isn't down here, I don't know where else he could be, but finding that Ring...He _has_ to be here. But I..."

     Bernard stiffened as the Werewolf placed a finger under his chin, but the fur wasn't wiry like he would have expected it to be. It was soft, almost like the pelt of a rabbit, and she gently tilted his chin so that he had to look at her.

     "If Santa's cub _is_ down here, I'll help you find him." She smiled, and it wasn't a scary smile like before. "You have my word on it."

     Scottish, Bernard decided. Her accent was all but gone, to he point where he couldn't tell what the regional dialect was, but it was distinctly Scottish. Hesitantly, he smiled back. "I still don't have your name. My...my _real_ name's Bernard."

     She raised an eyebrow. "Then it's well that you gave me a false name; I'll call you 'Curtis' when we're around others. I shall explain why in a bit. I go by 'Alpha'."

     She stood up and held out a hand to help him up, which he accepted. Bernard cleared his throat, and tried to pretend that he hadn't just broken down and bawled in front of a total stranger. "And is 'Alpha' _your_ real name?"

     She tipped him a wink and motioned for him to follow her, and he found himself being led back the way he had come. "Aye, it's one of them. Come on. I've got a few questions for Old Silas."

     "Who's that?"

     "You'll see."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, now you know who Alpha is! Well...you've met her, at any rate. I can think of a lot of songs that would fit her as a 'Character Theme', but I think the instrumental version of "Last of the Wilds" by Nightwish fits her pretty well.


	5. No Yellow Brick Road

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bare-bones plan is formed, and Bernard is still skeptical.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll probably include the name of whatever I listened to while writing each chapter, just for fun. For this one, it was 'Scary Halloween Music: Creepy Music, Dark Music, Instrumental Horror Music, Spooky Music 4' on Dark Music World's YouTube channel. I really like their stuff, and will probably listen to that for inspiration.

Bernard was glad his new companion knew where she was going, because the dim light from the Jack-O-Lanterns was only just bright enough to light their path. They were moving away from the lights of the underground city again, and now he could barely make out Alpha's shape as she walked in front of him. Her stride was much longer than his, and at first he had to jog in order to keep up with her. When she noticed this and slowed her pace to accommodate him, he actually ran into her back.

"Whoops!" she laughed, reaching out to prevent him from falling, but he recovered his balance on his own. "All right, there?"

"I'm fine." he bit out, his face heating up. "What _is_ this place?"

She turned and resumed walking at what must have been an excruciatingly slow pace for her so that he could keep up. "One part sanctuary. One part prison."

"Wait, ' _prison?_ '" Bernard halted once more. Did this mean that the beings down here were _criminals?_ Alpha turned to him again, sighing impatiently at the delay.

"When no one's allowed in or out, I think the word 'prison' fits better than any other. The Founders will put a freeze on trips to and from the surface every now and then. We long-timers are used to it by now." Alpha helped herself to another strip of jerky from her bag and turned away from him again. "Officially, this place is called 'The Hollow', because that's quite literally what it is."

"Oh."

Alpha chuckled softly though her nose. "I see the name means nothing to you."

"Not really, no..." He warily observed her from the corner of his eye. Even after her assurances that she meant him no harm, she still struck quite an imposing figure, especially when he caught a flash of her large, white canine teeth as she chewed another strip of jerky. He didn't realize he was being so obvious about it, and he blushed when she spoke again.

"If this really bothers you, I'll put it away."

"N-no, it's fine. I've just...I've never been around a Werewolf before, okay?"

Alpha arched an eyebrow, or what passed for an eyebrow on her lupine face, and deadpanned, "I'm shocked."

Bernard nearly laughed, but he wasn't quite sure if she was kidding or not. "Well, I haven't."

She shrugged and rolled up her bag of jerky, which was empty enough to be rolled into a tube, and she tucked it into the pocket that held her tin whistle. "If it makes ya feel any better, I _used_ to be human."

He wasn't sure how a human changing into something like _this_ was supposed to make him feel better, and he simply responded with a shrug of his own. He decided to change the subject as they continued on. "What kind of place is this? I mean...how did it get started? And you mentioned 'Founders'?"

"One thing at a time, lad," she paused and twitched an ear, then dismissed whatever it was she heard with a derisive flick of her tail.

Bernard whipped around to see if he could spot what she had heard, but the darkness gave him nothing. He turned back to Alpha and frowned. "Look, don't call me 'lad', okay? I'm probably a lot older than you are."

"Fair enough. How old _are_ you?" she smirked.

"That's a rude question."

"Well, you brought up the subject of age, not me."

Bernard had to admit that she had a point, and he tried to think back. "Hm...I stopped counting after one thousand. That was the last big age milestone, for an Elf. I'd say thirteen-hundred, give or take a few centuries. What about _you?_ "

"Rude."

"Well-"

She laughed. "I'll tell you; I don't care. Let's see...I was born in 1512, so I guess that would make me...four-hundred-and-ninety-something. Ninety-eight, I think."

A familiar feeling of superiority settled Bernard's frayed nerves just a little, and his body language was a little more open and easy as they walked. "Well, you're just a child, then!"

"Actually, if I were an Elf, I would be in late adolescence, nearly ready to take on a trade. I was an adult when I was changed, thank you very much. Forget about callin' you 'lad'. I think I'll start callin' ya 'Granddad'."

"No." His tone brooked no argument, but he had a feeling she wasn't serious about that.

Alpha laughed again, then sighed as she reluctantly turned the conversation back to more serious matters. "I'll answer your question about The Founders. The Founders are the Dark Elves who discovered this cavern. This place, or at least the river, was Silas's home since long before they arrived, which is one of the reasons I want to speak to him before we do anything else. The Founders had the city built well before I came to live here."

"Yes, but who _are_ they?"

"These two Elves are brother and sister," explained Alpha, "And boy, do _they_ have daggers for _you._ "

" _Me?_ Why?"

"Now, mind you, I only know _their_ side of the story. According to them, Santa's Head Elf turned them away from the North Pole. To hear _them_ tell it, you would think that they were drummed out under a cloud of shame, tarred and feathered, the whole deal." Alpha snorted. "They get quite worked up when they tell that story, so I always took it with a grain of salt."

Bernard was appalled! "But...no one has _ever_ been exiled from the Pole! Denied employment and housing, yes, but that was only if they weren't qualified to be Christmas Elves! And it was made _very_ clear to all of them that they could still come and go as they pleased, to visit friends and family, and whatnot. I don't understand..."

Alpha nodded as if he had confirmed a long-held suspicion of hers. "Aye, that's a bit more like it. None of the Dark Elves here are particularly happy about being rejected, but most of their stories back yours up. It's only the really bitter ones who live up by where The Founders had their mansion built."

" _Mansion?_ "

"Aye. But we're getting off topic here. I'm not sure if you'd recognize them, but every Elf down here has a bone to pick with _you_. They'd know you as soon as they saw you, and I really don't think it's a good idea to let The Founders know you're here." Alpha directed Bernard down a path that led to the river, and stopped just short of a decrepit-looking bridge.

Bernard stopped in his tracks and looked wildly around. He recognized the limestone gravel, and he had a feeling that if he went far enough he would encounter a familiar ring of mushrooms. This was near where he'd started, and where he'd seen those eyes! "Is this a trick?"

"What?" Alpha tilted one ear back and kept the other oriented on him, then her expression cleared. "Ah, so _that's_ why you yelled out before. You must have seen his eyes! No, it's no trick. That was just Old Silas. He's harmless."

"What's your definition of 'harmless'?" Bernard kept looking from her to the river.

Alpha doubled back to stand before him, and nodded approvingly when he didn't retreat from her. "Stay here, then, if you wish."

Bernard would have leaned in to whisper if she wasn't towering over him, six-foot-four to his own five-foot-six. "Why do you need to talk to him? How will this help us find Buddy? Does he know something?"

"More than we'll _ever_ know. You're over a thousand years old. He's much older than that. He knew The Founders from the beginning, and he's always given good advice before. I generally fly by the seat of my pants when I'm on my own and something needs to be done, but now there's a cub at stake. I don't think we _can_ afford to improvise if we don't have to." Alpha's ears perked at the sound of a soft splash from behind her, and she turned to see if Silas had surfaced, or if it was merely a jumping fish. Two green orbs peered curiously back at them. Or, more specifically, at Bernard.

Bernard forced himself to remain where he was. The eyes were back! Knowing that the creature they belonged to wasn't evil or aggressive certainly helped to keep panic at bay, but there was just something about eyes shining in the darkness that unsettled the Elf.

"I shouldn't be long," Alpha whispered, giving Bernard's shoulder a pat before loping down the road to the water's edge. "Ho! Silas!" she called.

There was a noise like the low, thrumming croak of a bullfrog, and the eyes drew closer to the shore and entered the feeble light of the Jack-O-Lanterns.

As more details became visible to Bernard, he couldn't help but stare. Now he understood why Silas's eyes were so huge. The creature's head more-or-less resembled that of a frog's, except for the hanging protrusions on either side of his mouth that looked like the whiskers of a catfish. As Silas settled himself in the shallows, Bernard could see that the head was attached to a human-like torso. The top of a fish-like tail broke the surface of the water, and it moved idly back and forth as Silas rested his elbows on the bank and propped his chin up on his webbed, four-fingered hands.

What on Earth _was_ he?

Bernard glanced behind, once more contemplating a run, but a low growl from the shadows spurred him in the other direction, and for the second time that day he ran into Alpha's back. "Oof!"

Alpha caught him before he could fall, and called in an annoyed voice, "Knock it off, 'Felix'!"

Bernard heard a cat hiss, and he was mortified when he realized that he was clinging to Alpha like a frightened child. This was _so_ unlike him, not to mention an inappropriate invasion of her space! He cleared his throat and quickly pulled away. "Sorry."

The water creature gave a gurgling chuckle and chided the Werewolf, revealing a mouthful of needle-like teeth. "His name is 'Omen', child. Why do you insist on calling him 'Felix'?"

"Because he hates it," Alpha knelt down so that she wasn't towering over Silas. "I only call him that when he causes trouble. Speaking of trouble, we need to speak with you."

"Ah. And who is this?" Silas nodded to Bernard.

"Bernard," replied the Elf without thinking.

Alpha knocked the heel of her hand against her own forehead. "What did I tell you about giving out your true name? Lucky for us, Silas can be trusted."

If Silas was surprised, he didn't show it. "Bernard...Your name is well-known down here. This is not the safest place for you to be. Though I don't get the impression that you're here by choice..."

Bernard shook his head.

"So...what is your trouble?"

Alpha responded before Bernard could. "Santa's son was kidnapped last night."

"And why are we getting involved? Surface issues do not concern us." Silas stared at Bernard, rather than at Alpha.

Anger replaced fear in an instant, and Bernard clenched his right fist as if he meant to throw a punch, but he knew better than to go _that_ far. What he _did_ do caught Alpha by surprise. "Look, if you've got nothing helpful to say, there's no reason to continue this conversation! 'Surface issues'. Why should it matter that he's from the surface? Don't you care that this is a _child_ we're talking about here? That little boy did _nothing_ to deserve this, _nothing_ , and if _you_ won't help, I'll just find him on my own!"

Bernard turned to leave, but Alpha snagged him by the back of his shirt. "Whoa, whoa, settle down!"

"Let go of me!" Bernard twisted away, thunderclouds gathering on his face as Silas laughed at him. Or, at least, Bernard _thought_ he was being laughed at.

Alpha did let go, but Bernard stayed where he was, glaring down at Silas as the creature wound down from his laugh.

"Good man!" Silas nodded. "You just might be brave enough for this after all. But you do need to keep your temper. Alpha? You were saying?"

Bernard got the feeling that he had just passed some sort of test, but this was not at all a comforting thought, and he folded his arms angrily across his chest.

Alpha cleared her throat, giving Silas a reproachful look, but she went on as if Bernard's outburst hadn't happened at all. "The Founders have been acting a bit 'off' for years. You probably noticed it before any of us did. I think _they_ might have kidnapped this child, or had someone else do it. Either way, I'm fairly certain that they're behind this."

Bernard turned his head so quickly to look at her that one of his curls smacked him in the eye. He rubbed it to get rid of the sting, and gave her his undivided attention.

"Why do you think this?" Silas blinked lazily, as if none of this was news to him.

"We've never been on lock-down for _this_ long. And when we are, we usually see them around. I haven't seen them at all in over a week. 'Lock-down' means 'no one in or out', and yet here is Bernard. Bernard, where did you say the Fairy Ring was?" Alpha cocked her head.

"Um...behind the Workshop, why?"

"Do people usually go back there?" she asked.

Bernard shook his head. "No, almost never. Not even for a cigarette break; no one at the Pole smokes."

"They just _left_ it there. They're never that forgetful." She seemed to be explaining this more for Bernard's benefit than for Silas's. "When our population gets a bit low, they locate what they call a 'Halloween Monster', and they leave a Fairy Ring for them to stumble into. Then the 'Monster' is given the choice to stay or leave. You've got nothing to do with Halloween, and if they actually _wanted_ you down here, I think they would have waited for you. They're getting sloppy...which means they were probably in a hurry last night, and forgot to dismiss the Ring."

"Speculation," Silas waved a finger. "But, I think, not incorrect. Omen loves his gossip, you see. He comes to the river's edge each morning to give me whatever news there is, and this morning he told me he thought he heard a strange sound coming from the mansion."

"Like what?" asked Bernard.

"The cries of a child." Silas replied.

Bernard's heart sank, and for a moment he thought he was going to pass out. His godson _was_ here, and he _was_ scared!

"He thought The Founders might have finally caved and gotten a television. I wasn't so sure, and I told him to keep an eye out for anything new. _You_ showed up not long after that. And I apologize for frightening you; I realize my appearance is rather startling."

Alpha put a hand on Bernard's shoulder, trying in her way to console him, but he moved out of reach and she let her hand fall to her side. "Any ideas, Silas?"

"Yes," the creature sighed, "Something has been coming for a long time. Perhaps centuries. I've felt it, and I've seen the changes happening in this place. The Founders have, in their minds, been rejected by one holiday, and they've spent a long time trying to take over another. They've tried to make Halloween greater than Christmas by keeping the creatures of legend in one place, and tasking them with going out every October to give the humans a thrill. This has created a community of sorts, but I told them from the beginning that it wouldn't last. You can't keep people in a bubble. After a while, things stagnate and boredom sets in. This is what has happened here. The Founders are no longer held in such high regard, and Halloween has become a children's plaything."

 _Why doesn't he just skip the exposition, and tell us his idea?_ If Buddy wasn't being held down here, Bernard might actually be fascinated by this.

Alpha muttered, "It wasn't even _called_ Halloween, originally..."

"So I've heard," Silas nodded. "The balance of power is shifting...but you asked about the child. I think it very unlikely that they will keep him at the mansion if they suspect that you are looking for him. Seek out Pearl, the Witch. She will be of help if it comes down to a fight, and she might be able to provide a disguise for Bernard. Punky should go with you as well. And Robert."

Alpha pinned her ears and glared. "That ne'er-do-well Vampire? He hasn't been able to feed for two weeks, and the child we're looking for is human. Are you sure that's wise?"

"Robert has more self control than you give him credit for. And, if time is of the essence, you will need him. You don't know _all_ of the shortcuts and back ways. He can reach places you can't even see from where you stand on the ground, and he knows how to get in and out of the mansion without being noticed."

"Why, you've been holding out on me!" she accused Silas, and he didn't deny it.

"Perhaps." Silas held her gaze with an almost paternal smile. "You take too much to heart that cannot be helped, child. The Founders been aware of you for quite some time, you know. You've appointed yourself this realm's protector, and they've allowed this because it's been _useful_ to them. But if _you're_ the one to ask questions about the missing boy, word is sure to get back to them. There are times when I fear for you...because you're not one to leave well enough alone when you suspect something, and they _can_ be dangerous. _Very._ But this is different. They've stolen a child from his parents." Silas paused, giving her the opportunity to speak, but she was silent, thoughtful. He repeated, firmly, "Robert will help you."

"For a price," she flicked an ear as if shaking off an annoying fly, "There's always a price with him."

Silas now looked at Bernard. "This next bit is for you. Only The Founders have fully committed themselves to walking a dark path, but the other Dark Elves won't be pleased to see you. _Avoid_ them."

They watched as Silas pushed away from the bank, and when the green light from his eyes disappeared they had every reason to believe that he had submerged again.

Alpha didn't look pleased with his advice, and she got to her feet again with a disgusted snort. "That old fart...C'mon, Bernard."

As they turned away and began to walk back up the road, there was a loud splash. An orb of water the size of a basketball collided with the back of Alpha's head, drenching her from head to toe and splashing Bernard with a few errant droplets. Silas's deep bass voice drifted to them from somewhere out on the river. "None of your sass, little girl."

"Guess I deserved that..." Alpha moved away, bent forward and placed her hands on the ground, then shook out her pelt. She ignored the funny look Bernard gave her when she did that, and wrung out her shirttail.

Lowering his voice so that he wouldn't earn himself a 'magic water balloon', Bernard hissed, "What _is_ he?"

"You know, I was never really sure...The only answer he ever gives is 'Silas is Silas', and I never asked him myself."

"So...he's got us looking for two...no, _three_ other people before we can even _do_ anything? What is this, The Wizard of Oz?"

"No, thank God. I'm not much of a singer, and one of the people we have to find actually _is_ a Witch. Though I suppose Punky could be the Scarecrow, if ya squint."

"Then let's get it done, quick."

Both of them took notice when a black cat with a white, teardrop-shaped patch of fur on its chest joined them on the road. Alpha and the cat exchanged a nod, and Bernard decided that this cat wasn't a problem. His thoughts turned to Buddy once more. _Don't worry, Sport. We're coming._


	6. Unfit Sitters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viola and Avery aren't exactly great with kids!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the shorter chapter. I'll try to keep them all at around the same length, but some will be longer than others. I'm not sure if I should put a trigger warning in here, because what Viola does is pretty much emotional abuse. She's more patient than her brother, but she's also a lot more vindictive. I actually hated writing for her here. :(

     It had taken hours, but by the time Bernard arrived in The Hollow, Buddy had finally cried himself out. The child sat underneath a small table, partially hidden by a crocheted white tablecloth with a spiderweb pattern, and nibbled on a bat-shaped sugar cookie as he listened to his captors talk.

     "Finally..." Avery sighed, "I thought he'd never stop screaming."

     Viola's slipper-shod feet passed by the table, and Buddy grew very still. He heard her pour herself a cup of cider, and he relaxed as her feet moved away.

     "He's scared," she replied, sounding like this didn't bother her much. "We knew he would be, after waking up in a strange place without his parents."

     "Yeah, but I didn't know he had such a strong set of pipes! Hey, kid, you want another cookie?" Avery called, not really expecting a response.

     Buddy looked down at the half-eaten cookie in his hand, then hurled it away from him. It skittered across the tiled floor and broke into three pieces. Cookies were supposed to be round, or shaped like Christmas Trees, or stars. Mommy once referred to bats as 'rats with wings'. The cookie _tasted_ good, but it wasn't _shaped_ like something good. "No!"

     "Fine," Avery sounded like he was angry. "Be difficult."

     "Avery, you need to be _nice_ to children. They don't know any better." Viola sipped her cider. "Give him some leeway. It's not like he's here to stay."

     "Yeah, whatever...at least he's potty-trained," Avery said under his breath as he turned to leave.

     Buddy listened as Avery left what they had called 'the playroom', and he waited for Viola to follow him out, but instead she rifled through her brother's pack brought it over to the table. Buddy whined when she squatted down and lifted up a corner of the tablecloth, but his eyes grew round as saucers when he saw one of his toys in her hand. It was a brown stuffed dog, and one of his favorites! He reached eagerly for it, and Viola held it out of reach. "Mine!"

     "I just wanted to know if he had a name," she smiled sweetly, disarmingly.

     "Taffy, and he's _mine!_ " Buddy tried to sound reasonable, but his voice came out sounding more petulant than anything else.

     "Taffy, hm?" Viola turned the toy in her hand, but didn't give it to him. "You want him, don't you?"

     "Yeah!"

     "Then you'll behave yourself. No more crying. No throwing cookies. If you're a really _good_ boy, you can keep Taffy. But, if you're _naughty..._ " She waved the toy just out of reach, "I'll take him away, and I'll feed you to the Werewolf."

     Buddy was smart enough to follow most what she was saying, and he pressed his lips together to lessen their trembling. He couldn't keep the tears from falling, but she didn't seem to care about that as long as he was quiet. He wanted his stuffed animal, and he most certainly did _not_ want a Werewolf, whatever _that_ was, to eat him all up. He nodded and held out his hands, making grabbing motions with his fingers.

     "Good boy," Viola handed him the toy and ruffled his hair before getting up and moving away. "There are more cookies on the table for you, and I put some cider in a sippy cup. The door is locked, so you can't get out. But if you need something to eat or drink, you can knock on the door and ask for it. Did you understand all that?"

     Buddy nodded, not realizing that she couldn't see him clearly enough to make it out. He vigorously mussed his own hair, as if to get rid of her cooties, then hugged the stuffed dog close to his chest.

     "I can't hear you."

     Oh. "Yeah."

     "Good. Remember...no loud crying, or it's bye-bye Taffy."

     Buddy buried his face in the plush, synthetic fur, and stifled his sobs. No noise, she'd said. No noise!

     The door clicked shut, and he lay on his side and curled up into a little ball, mumbling quietly into the back of Taffy's head. "I wanna go home..."

     The toy had nothing to say, of course, but its presence was a great comfort, and before long the child drifted off to sleep.

* * *

     Viola found Avery at the other end of their mansion, and she leaned against the doorjamb as he tossed chocolate chips into the air and caught them in his mouth. "Don't do that."

     "Why not?" He tossed another chip.

     "Because you don't always pick up the ones you miss, and that stain removal spell is are very taxing, which you would _know_ if you ever bothered to learn it." She entered the room, and when he defiantly tossed another chocolate chip into the air she caught it and ate it herself.

     "Hey!" he glowered.

     "Save your hay; you might marry a horse someday." She sat down beside him on the couch.

     "I don't need to marry one; I already _live_ with one!"

     Viola reached out and touched her brother's arm, and there was a white flash, accompanied by a loud ' _zap_ '.

     Avery's hair stood out from his head like a dandelion gone to seed, and he jerked away from his sister's finger. "Ouch!"

     "So...I don't think the kid will give us anymore trouble."

     Avery rubbed his arm and tried to mold his hair back into its usual faux hawk. "What'd you do?"

     "I didn't _do_ anything. I just gave him that toy you grabbed on the way out, and told him Alpha would eat him if he didn't behave himself." She kicked off her slippers and sat cross-legged on her end of the couch, then picked up a book from the end table.

     " _That_ marshmallow?" Avery squinted, "She's all bark and no bite." He scooped up a handful of chocolate chips, caught his sister's warning glare, and simply ate them normally. "And after what happened-"

     " _He_ doesn't know that." She opened her book to a random page and leaned back to read.

     Avery finished his chocolate chips, reached out to take another handful, then decided against it. He loved chocolate, probably more than the average Elf, but he had no desire to make himself sick on the stuff. "Well...what are we going to do with him if this doesn't work?"

     "Why wouldn't it work?" She didn't look up from her book.

     "Just asking. If it doesn't, what do we do with the kid?" Still receiving no answer, he took the book and closed it, marking her place with his thumb. "I'm serious. Let's say it doesn't work, and Christmas goes on without a hitch, in spite of their missing kid. What then? We _can't_ just give him back."

     "No, they're _not_ getting him back either way," Viola agreed, taking back her book. "I've thought of that. Some of us were okay with kids, but too unskilled at toy making. I think Joy was talking about wanting to adopt the next child who ended up here. She doesn't care about the species, so she'd be fine with a human child."

     "What about her husband? He asks too many questions."

     "Then just don't answer them," Viola waved dismissively, "Now, let me read. I keep losing my place."


	7. Trust Issues

Alpha led Bernard to what would be her driveway if anyone in The Hollow owned a car, peering behind her every now and then to make sure he was keeping up. The sour look on his face told her all she needed to know about his state of mind, and she wisely resisted the urge to question him about the North Pole. Curiosity had its time and place, but this wasn't it.

"Where are we going now? Is this the Witch's house?"

The black cat chuckled wickedly. "No, it's the Bitch's house."

Alpha's muzzle briefly wrinkled back in a snarl, and she pointed a warning finger at the cat. Her mode of speech changed to reflect her annoyance; her Scottish brogue briefly came out of retirement. "'Felix', Ah will drop-kick ye intae th' middle ay next week!"

"Then I'll claw your face off on Thursday."

It took Bernard a second or two to realize that she had just threatened to drop-kick Omen into the middle of next week, and even though it was obvious that this was an empty threat, he visibly paled. His eyes widened, both at the cat's use of language and the fact that it actually _could_ speak, and he looked anxiously at Alpha. "You wouldn't, _really_...?"

"Nahhh, _'course_ not." Realizing that her banter with Omen wasn't doing much to keep Bernard calm, Alpha shrugged off the cat's remark and commented, "Well, that's not exactly an insult for a female Werewolf. Though I don't think the men would appreciate it very much. We're stopping at my house first."

"What for?" Bernard seemed more confused than worried.

"Pearl isn't home. Her windows are dark. And you can't go into town dressed like _that._ " Alpha gestured vaguely at Bernard's clothing.

Bernard looked down at himself. He was wearing brown trousers and a burgundy and gold striped shirt, and he never went anywhere without his hat. "This is what I _usually_ wear. What's wrong with it?"

"Nothing, if you wanna stick out like a sore thumb!" Alpha unlocked her front door and stood aside to let him pass. Omen strolled in like he owned the place, but Bernard hung back.

"Look, I'm not...I'm not gonna _undress,_ okay? And I'm not wearing women's clothing, either."

Alpha fought the urge to laugh. There was something endearing about his little fits of pique, and she was strongly reminded of one of her younger brothers. She pushed that thought from her mind, not wanting to remember. "Well, then, you're in luck on both counts. I hate wearing dresses, and you won't even have to remove your hat. Now, are you coming in or not? You'll let the bats in."

 _Bats?!_ _Why am I not surprised?_ He shuffled quickly into the house, which was little more than a shack, and blinked when Alpha turned on a lamp. The light was dim, by his standards, but he was so used to the darkness outside that he couldn't open his eyes right away.

"Oh, sorry," she left him where he was and began rifling through her wardrobe.

Bernard lingered uncomfortably by the door as his eyes adjusted to the light, and as he gazed about him he felt a stab of pity. Alpha didn't seem to have very much at all in the way of material possessions. A half-finished knitting project lay in a heap on one end of her small table, and at the other end was a clean place setting and a single chair. A bed, covered in a patchwork quilt, sat at the back of the house. There was a door that Bernard thought might lead to either a closet or a bathroom, and the only real luxury item he could see was a well-stocked bookshelf. A dictionary-sized book stood out, and he went over to investigate. It was entitled, 'The Complete Works of Edgar Allan Poe', and on the same shelf he saw at least seven Stephen King novels. He quickly lost interest. Was _everything_ down here about horror?

What were Buddy's surroundings like? Bernard shuddered and rubbed his upper arms. He glanced at the other shelves, and saw that, in fact, only a very small percentage of her books were of the horror genre, and he saw several fantasy and sci-fi books, arranged by series and author. The Chronicles of Narnia, various novels by J.R.R. Tolkien, Dragonlance novels, The Wind in the Willows, several books of sheet music for the tin whistle...Oh, and what was this? He read the title aloud to himself. "'Quilting For Dummies'?"

"Ah-ah, you forget _all_ about that!"

Bernard jumped, feeling absurdly like a naughty little boy who had been caught in the act of raiding the cookie jar, and clasped his hands behind his back.

Omen had risen up onto his hind legs and reached up, stretching himself to his full length as he prepared to sharpen his claws on her wardrobe. He looked right at her, seeming to weigh his options, then he hopped onto the top of the wardrobe as if that had been his plan all along.

Bernard relaxed when he saw _he_ wasn't the one being scolded. "Look, I don't mean to be rude, but I _really_ think we should hurry."

"One second...ah!" Alpha withdrew a gray woolen cloak that looked like it was several sizes too small for her and held it out. "It might be a bit itchy, but hopefully you won't have to wear it for long."

Bernard wrinkled his nose at the smell of mothballs, but he supposed it couldn't be helped. He donned the cloak, putting the hood up and feeling like a prized dumbbell. "Whose is it?"

"Why, it's mine!" she grinned. "I used to wear it when I went up to the surface, at least until they went out of style and I started getting some funny looks. My human form's about your size...maybe an inch or two taller. How does it fit?"

"Well enough..." Bernard sighed. He wasn't in the habit of wearing other people's clothes! "This is weird."

"Better weird than caught, I say. C'mon. Omen, you come too. I don't want you spraying in here."

The cat sniffed disdainfully and leaped from the wardrobe and onto her shoulder. "How uncouth."

Alpha brought Bernard back to the Fairy Ring, and he immediately balked.

"Wait a minute, what _is_ this?"

Omen laid back his ears and wrapped his tail around Alpha's neck, partly to keep his balance, and said in a stage whisper, "You've got a real genius on your paws, there, Alpha."

"Hush," she hissed back before addressing Bernard. "I'm not sure what you mean. I told you what they were, right?"

"Yes, and you also said they don't work!"

Alpha responded patiently enough. "No, I said we were on lock-down. We can't _leave_. But the Rings down here work just fine."

"No, they don't!" Bernard was practically yelling now. "I tried using it to get back home, and it didn't just dump me at some other Fairy Ring!"

Alpha opened her mouth to explain, but he wouldn't let her. As he ranted on, the fur on the back of her neck began to bristle.

"You said _you_ don't like being lied to, well, neither do I! If this is some sort of prank, and you're just getting your holly-jollies by dragging the Christmas Elf on a wild goose chase, it's not funny at all!"

Omen cringed, leaped from Alpha's shoulder, and disappeared into the shadows. This was Bernard's first clue that he had committed some sort of grave etiquette blunder, and he swallowed whatever else he meant to say.

Alpha drew in a deep breath, then exhaled through her nose; the actions of one who was controlling their temper. "You just used up your only freebie."

"Huh?"

"You get _one_ for free, but don't ever insult me like that again. You may do as you please; come with me, or go off on your own. But they'll not keep that wee one from his parents either way. _No_ parent deserves that, and no child for that matter!"

Bernard took an involuntary step back. If this was only an act, it was a good one. Why on Earth was she so invested in this?

Before the silence could become too awkward, Alpha explained in a calmer tone of voice, "A Fairy Ring on the surface, at least one of ours, will bring you here and nowhere else. Down here, it's a little bit different. If you don't have a specific destination in mind, and you're not with someone who does, it'll transport you to a random location. You _had_ a destination in mind, but-"

"Lock-down..." he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Look, I'm really sorry, but I don't _know_ you. I wasn't ready for _any_ of this, and..."

"You just want to find him," she nodded. "I get it. _Believe me,_ I get it."

Bernard bit his lip before he began to ask, "Do you-"

He meant to ask her if she had children, but she cut him off, and the word 'evasive' passed through Bernard's mind. "I'm taking you to 'The Pale Horse'. It's Punky's tavern. Pearl might be there, and if she isn't, he'll probably know where she is. Look...I'm sorry, I know I'm asking a lot of you, but you'll just have to trust me."

He sighed. "I'm trying. Well...how many of these Rings are there?"

Omen rejoined them, climbing up Alpha's body to reclaim his shoulder perch, and provoking a peevish 'ow' from the werewolf as he answered for her. "Ten."

"Huh..." Bernard frowned.

"What is it?" asked Alpha.

"It's just funny...I would have expected it to be thirteen."

Alpha snickered and led him to the Fairy Ring. "It's funny, because there _used_ to be thirteen. I'm not sure why they got rid of the other three."

"You never asked?" Bernard looked up at her, still a bit nervous around her, especially after having angered her.

"Of course I did. I was told to mind my own business, and that was that. Now...hold onto my arm; I know where we're going, but if you let go you might end up at the other end of town. Oh, and shut your eyes. These things wreak havoc on the stomach if you don't."

Bernard did as he was told, and for the second time that day he found himself being transported to another location. This time, it wasn't so bad; he closed his eyes before the scenery had time to warp around him, and he only experienced mild vertigo this time. When he opened his eyes again, his surroundings were much brighter.

From what Bernard could see, different parts of the city were color coded, though he couldn't make sense of what each color represented. Maybe they meant nothing, and were just for decoration, but he didn't care enough to ask. A lamppost with a green light cast a sickly glow on the cobblestones behind him, glinting off of the windows of what looked like an apartment building. In front of him, at least for the next two city blocks, the lampposts were purple. And, in the distance, was an orange lamppost.

He thought he could make out a sign hanging from the building near the orange lamppost, and going by the street signs, he, Alpha, and Omen were standing at the corner of East Toadstool and Wraith. The streets were _swarming_ with people, if you could call them that, on their way to whatever their destinations happened to be. Bernard did a double-take when he thought he spotted a creature that appeared to be human from the waist up, and a serpent from the waist down. "Is...was that a _Naga?_ What do _those_ have to do with Halloween?"

"Shh. Pull your hood down a bit, 'Curtis'," Alpha mumbled out of the corner of her mouth as she started forward. "Don't let them see your face. Don't make eye contact; people here take that as a challenge. Try to act like none of this is new to you, and try to remember that no one here has any interest in you."

"Gee, thanks," he snorted, knowing that she didn't mean it that way, but calling her out on how it sounded.

From the outside, 'The Pale Horse' closely resembled a medieval tavern. There was a wooden sign hanging above the door with a design carved into it, and when they drew closer, Bernard saw that it was a caricature of a robed skeleton astride a gaunt white horse. He quickly averted his eyes from the sign, picturing a cobwebby interior with a bubbling cauldron and jars of various disgusting items sitting on dusty shelves.

He expected 'eye of newt'. What he got looked more like a sports bar than a witch's den.

The neon signs that lined the walls glowed in shades of orange, purple, blue, and yellow and, and they didn't advertise beer brands. Instead, they were shaped like various Halloween creatures; a bat, a Witch riding her broomstick, a ghost, an arching cat, and yes, even a Werewolf. There were others as well, but Bernard found his attention being drawn to the center of the room. The tavern was empty of people, save for the bartender.

Bernard _stared._ He couldn't help it. Standing behind the bar and wiping it down with a grubby cloth was a creature that seemed to be fashioned entirely out of wood, like some sort of mannequin. The finger joints bent and flexed as easily as his own, and it had been given a pumpkin for a head. No, not a pumpkin. It was a Jack-O-Lantern, and when the creature looked up its expression _changed._ The sour, jagged grimace became the upward-tilting crescent of a smile! How was this even _possible?_

The pumpkin-head adjusted the collar of his ill-fitting plaid button-down, and stashed the rag somewhere underneath the bar as it greeted them in a low, scratchy voice, "Hey, girly! Who's your friend?"

"Hey, Punky, what's up?" Alpha grinned, and exchanged a fist-bump with the creature.

"Not much. Business is slow today, but then again, it's early." Punky scrutinized Bernard, but didn't repeat his question. Instead, he pointed at Alpha. "Something's up with _you,_ though."

"You could always read me like a book," Alpha leaned on the bar and whispered, "Listen, would you mind closing up shop for today?"

Punky drummed his wooden fingers on the bar, considering, then he came around the bar and turned the sign in the window so that it read 'Closed' before locking the front door and pulling down the shades. His green slacks were being held up by black suspenders, which was a good thing, because otherwise they would have fallen down. He came back and sat down on one of the bar stools, his wooden joints squeaking a bit. The magical fire that lit his pumpkin skull from within dimmed a bit as he grew more serious. "Locked up tight. Talk to me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Never insult Alpha's honor. Also, there's another player in the game! You'll learn a bit more about him in the next chapter. I showed this story to my brother, and he asked me if Alpha and Bernard were flirting. The answer to that is a resounding no. XD Becoming friends, yeah, but I don't think they're each other's types. I actually had someone else in mind for Alpha, someone who hates his wings and wants to change his name (hint, hint) but whether or not it ever gets serious remains to be seen. It might not even head in that direction, truth be told. I thought of it somewhere around Chapter 2, and the idea won't leave me alone. I guess we'll just have to wait and see how it goes!


	8. Punky Pumpkin

     Omen jumped up onto the bar and sat down, and Punky absently scratched the cat behind the ears while Alpha summed up their mission. Eventually, the cat had had enough, and he casually pushed the wooden hand away. Punky withdrew his hand without so much as a glance in the cat's direction.

     "So, anyway, that's why we're here. Do you know where we can find Pearl?"

     "Sure," Punky got up and resumed his previous post behind the bar. "You can find her here, if you feel like waiting around for twenty minutes or so. She always comes in at around the same time every day for a cider."

     Bernard leaned his elbows on the bar and rubbed his face. " _More_ waiting..." he sighed.

     Punky produced a jug of cider from underneath the counter. "Hot or cold?"

     Alpha waved a hand. "None for me, thanks. Bernard? You look like you could use a pick-me-up."

     "I don't drink," the Elf said archly, resting his chin in the palm of his hand and staring morosely at the formica bar top.

     "Non-alcoholic. I keep the hard stuff in the back." Punky got out a glass and set it down beside the jug, then snapped his wooden fingers once with a sound like castanets. "You'd probably prefer cocoa, right? I don't have any of that, but I think I have some chocolate bars left over from Halloween. I could probably come up with something resembling what you're used to."

     Bernard glanced up, then sighed and shook his head. These people were trying, and he appreciated that, but he just wasn't in the mood. "No, thanks." He took a stab at making conversation. "So, um...how did you get the name 'Punky'? Is it a nickname?"

     To his surprise, Punky groaned theatrically and Omen rolled around in a fit of laughter.

     Bernard frowned, embarrassed. "What? What did I say?"

     Alpha smothered a grin behind her hand and shook her head. "Nothing, it's not you. Have you ever heard the song 'Punky Pumpkin'? I think it was recorded in 1950."

     Bernard shook his head.

     Punky began polishing the bar again. "Nah, it's fine. If you heard the song, you'd probably get the joke. Pearl's my mother...sort of. And, for a while, she was a fan of Rosemary Clooney. She made me at around the time that record came out, and, well, the rest is history."

     The singer's name rang a bell. Rosemary Clooney sang a lot of Christmas songs in the past, so of course the Elves at the North Pole were familiar with some of her other songs, and Bernard nodded. "Oh, yeah. I think I know the song you're talking about. It's not _that_ bad."

     "You wouldn't say that if you were named after it, buddy." Punky draped the cloth over his shoulder, then he realized his faux pas when Bernard flinched and Alpha gave an imperceptible shake of her head. 'Buddy' was that kid's name, he remembered; the one they were searching for. "Hey, sorry..."

     Bernard shook his head. "Never mind..."

     Punky frowned uncomfortably before squinting his triangular carved 'eyes' at Alpha to the point where they became glowing slits of skepticism. "Are you _sure_ Silas said to bring Robert?"

     "That's what he said," Alpha flicked an ear.

     "If you don't like or trust him, why bring him at all?" Bernard couldn't seem to wrap his mind around it.

     "Oh, don't get me wrong," Alpha smirked down at Omen, who had fallen asleep on his back, and curved her hand into a spider-like claw. She opened and closed the 'spider' as it drew nearer to the cat's belly before she pounced, tickling his belly with a triumphant 'hah!', and getting bitten for it. The cat bunny-kicked her hand before rolling over and scurrying out of reach, and she spoke on as if none of this had happened. "He's trust-worthy, all right. But he never does anything for free."

     " _And_ he's a lazy good-for-nothing," Punky strapped Alpha's shoulder as 'punishment' for teasing the cat.

     "The reason _I_ don't like him is, he's a chauvinistic jackass." Alpha looked up at the clock. Only five minutes had passed, but maybe Pearl would be early. Like Bernard, she was anxious to really get started.

     "You're gonna be at each other's throats," Punky warned. "It's gonna be like that time he stole your clothes for a joke while you were going for a swim, and you threw him into a wall as payback."

     "He was fine," Alpha dismissed this with a shrug. "He heals a lot faster than I do."

     Bernard looked up at Alpha in horror. It was one thing to know that she _could_ cause some real damage if she wanted to. It was quite another thing entirely to know that there was a chance he might actually _witness_ it! "Maybe we should just skip him, then." He hesitated, then asked in a whisper, "You threw him into a _wall?_ "

     "Like I said; he was fine. Vampires are a lot more resilient than humans. He can take it. I wouldn't do that to someone who couldn't."

     "Well, did you apologize?"

     Alpha didn't look at Bernard, and instead poured herself a glass of cider, having changed her mind. "Nope. He can keep his grabby hands to himself."

     The Elf looked at Punky in disbelief, but the pumpkin man had his back to them, cleaning the other end of the bar. "Look, is this Robert guy going to be a problem? Because we can't be fighting among ourselves if we're going to do this, and we _are_ going to do this."

     Alpha drank her cider, and Bernard felt a flicker of shame when he saw that she drank it like a human, rather than like a dog, as he would have expected. As odd as it was to see, and he wasn't entirely sure how she was able to do it without spilling a drop, she had once again proven to him that she wasn't an animal.

     When she set down her empty glass again, she nodded and folded her hands on the bar. "I agree. I can work with him for this." She smirked. "I solemnly swear that there will be no hurling of jackasses, even if he goes so far as to call me a 'mutt', like he likes to do."

     "Could you _not_ use that word?" Bernard glared at her.

     "What, 'jackass'?"

     "Yes."

     "It means 'male donkey', does it not? I was using it in that capacity." Alpha seemed amused. Apparently, Bernard did not approve of swearing, and while she didn't do it often, she didn't like it when people tried to police her word usage. Still, she shrugged her shoulders and poured herself another cider, figuring that she might as well humor him. "Very well."

     "Thank you."

     "Unh." she grunted, getting up and pulling the shade aside to peek out the window. A would-be customer was walking away in disappointment, and she backed off before he could see the light from inside and come back. "Anyway, Silas has a point. Pearl has her broomstick, and I can climb fairly well, but Robert can turn himself into a bat, and if anyone needs to get into a tight space..."

     "Don't know why they _would,_ if we're just gonna storm the mansion to find that kid," Punky intoned with an air of boredom.

     "No," Alpha shook her head firmly. "That's the _last_ thing we want to do. We don't want them to know we're there until we actually _have_ him. That means _not_ kicking in the front door."

     Bernard listened to this with growing alarm. "Are they really that dangerous? Elves don't even _have_ offensive magic, and physically, we're not that strong. _You_ could probably pick me up with one hand, no effort at all!"

     "I could, yes, but that's not the point." Alpha sat back down and drank half of her cider in one pull. "The Founders mentioned that some Elves can teleport, and that you're one of them. Did you try to do that when you first got here?"

     "Yeah, of course I did. Obviously, it didn't work."

     "No, it wouldn't have. Christmas magic doesn't work down here at _all._ They've blocked it, somehow," she explained, tracing the rim of her cider glass.

     Punky nodded in agreement. "I've only been animate for fifty-nine years. Alpha could explain it better than I could, because she's been around long enough to see it happen over time, but when an Elf comes down here to live, their magic...well...it _changes._ Something to do with hatred, I think."

     " _Hatred?_ " Bernard shook his head slowly. Elves certainly _were_ capable of feeling hate, same as every other emotion, but he'd never known it to change an Elf's magic! Then again, he was quickly realizing that he knew woefully little about this place.

     "Aye. See, negativity is a type of energy. Christmas Spirit is a kind of positive energy, as I'm sure you know. Your magic is mostly dependent on the belief of children. A Dark Elf's magic, at least from what I've been able to piece together over the past few centuries, is fueled by their own hatred. It becomes what they feed it. _You_ wouldn't be able to use your magic to attack someone, because you haven't nurtured hatred in your heart. And not all of the Dark Elves down here have dark magic, either. 'Dark Elf' is just the name The Founders gave them, like they're now a separate species, but you're really not that different at all. Some of them are just here because they have nowhere else to go, and they've accepted their new lives. The Founders and their loyal followers haven't. It all sounds kind of hokey, I know."

     "No," Bernard mumbled, thoughtfully rubbing his beardless chin. "I think it makes sense."

     Alpha knocked back the rest of her cider, and passed Punky something that looked like a wooden coin.

     "What's that?" Bernard looked intrigued.

     "A voucher," Alpha replied, "We don't have money down here. How many of these we get depends on how much work we did during the month."

     "Hm...Is that always enough to live on?" Bernard had a feeling he knew the answer.

     Alpha shook her head, and her ears drooped for a moment. "No...But we work it out among ourselves. It isn't perfect; no system is. A lot of bartering happens down here. It's how I got my tin whistle." She patted her pocket. "Something I wanted for something they needed. It cost me a dozen jars of pickled veggies, but it worked out great for both parties."

     "And where _do_ you guys get your food?" Bernard asked, trying not to smile at the sudden mental picture he got of a Werewolf eating a carrot. Well, she drank cider. Why wouldn't she eat vegetables as well?

     Punky answered, this time. "We're currently on the 'upper level'. The 'living quarters'. There's another level further down for farming. The Goblins handle that business. They use artificial sunlight there. It's a fairly massive set-up. You don't want to go down _there,_ though. Their compost heap stinks to high heaven."

     Bernard warily eyed the rolled-up bag of jerky sticking out of Alpha's pocket. "You're not all vegetarians...Where do you get your meat?"

     "Good eye," Alpha smiled approvingly. "Those of us who are able go up to the surface and hunt. That serves two purposes; one, it supplies The Hollow with meat, and two, if we're spotted, it keeps the _myth_ alive."

     There was note of bitterness in her voice, as if she didn't like this aspect of it.

     " _Dangerous,_ " Punky's carved mouth became a jagged frown, the square 'teeth' multiplying and growing pointed in his disapproval. "I wish you wouldn't go up there. You were shot at just last month!"

     "No, I was _shot._ It wasn't silver, though, and I was as good as new within a week." She turned to Bernard, who was gaping in a mixture of unease and admiration. She was tougher than she looked, and that was saying a lot! She told him, conspiratorially, "Trigger-happy bugger cost me one of my favorite shirts."

     Punky slammed his palm down on the bar, but it lacked the kind of meaty resonance that a human's hand would have. "You didn't _tell_ me that!"

     She blinked innocently. "You didn't ask."

     Glancing between Bernard and Alpha, Punky sighed and took her glass to clean it. "You got a death wish, girly?"

     Alpha didn't answer, and Bernard didn't like that. But the point became moot when they heard the door being unlocked with a key from outside. Bernard quickly pulled his hood down to obscure his face, but he need not have bothered.

     In walked a slender, elderly woman who appeared to be in her late seventies. She held a broomstick in one gnarled claw of a hand, and in the other hand was a key, which she dropped matter-of-factly into the pocket of her gray slacks. She wore a green cable-knit sweater, and her hair, which was nearly white, was worn in a tight knot at the back of her head. As she locked the door behind her once more, Bernard got a faint whiff of patchouli and roses. This had to be Pearl.

     "Well," the Witch surveyed the room with cool gray eyes, and planted her fist on her hip. "I certainly hope everything is all right. The last time you locked up early, someone had stolen your pumpkin, and I had a devil of a time finding it."

"No, nothing like that, but wait until you hear this..." Punky waved Pearl over and handed her a glass of cider.

     "Ah, thank you, Dearie," She grinned, completely unselfconscious about her slightly-stained teeth. Bernard privately thought that she must drink a lot of tea or coffee. After quaffing most of her cider in three deep swallows, she smacked her lips and noticed Bernard. "Ahhh, it's an _Elf!_ My, he looks a bit more mature than the others. So handsome!"

     When Pearl pinched Bernard's cheek, his dislike for this woman was immediate and complete. He jerked back, and if Alpha hadn't put a hand to his back he would have fallen off his stool. Sputtering indignantly, he found himself unable to form a coherent sentence.

     Alpha smoothly cut in and brought Pearl up to speed.

     Pearl lost all traces of levity by the time the tale was told, and she frowned thunderously at the three of them. "Then why are we all sitting around, drinking cider? Punky, I'm _astonished_ at you!"

     The pumpkin-headed man looked uncommonly like a scolded child as he held up his hands. "We were waiting for _you!_ "

     "Gone on without me, is what you _should_ have done! Omen would have found me eventually. Wouldn't you, precious?" Pearl stroked the cat, who purred smugly and arched his back.

     Alpha accepted the rebuke with a single nod, and got to her feet. "I was hoping you could cast a glamour on Bernard here, to disguise his appearance."

     Bernard did a triple-take. "What? No, I didn't agree to that!"

     Pearl looked him up and down. "That cloak will do well enough, as long as we don't run into any Dark Elves. The spell won't hurt a bit, but if you absolutely refuse, we'll have to avoid their parts of town."

     "I _do_ refuse!" Bernard turned to Alpha, looking apologetic. "I'm sorry, I just _can't_."

     "Very well," Alpha accepted this with obvious misgivings and gestured towards the door. "Shall we go?"

     "Most assuredly," Pearl replied.

     Bernard regarded the Witch with a jaundiced eye, feeling his cheek where she had pinched it. It hadn't hurt his face, but his ego was a little bit bruised. _Why couldn't she have refused to come?_


End file.
